Friday, 25 August 1876 (13 August) — Garden Walk and Coquetry Realization

We took a long walk in the garden; Miloradovitch was my escort, helping me up and down. We visited the chapel and the vault containing the coffins of my grandfather and grandmother Bashkirtseff.
Michel followed behind me, going through the motions of a dog performing its tricks, with supplicant, submissive eyes, and constantly making gestures of despair towards Gritz. Pacha walked ahead, and when he looked at me he did so with eyes so full of hatred that I had to turn my head away.
No, truly, I had not suspected it, but I am dreadfully flirtatious, and the freedom of country life, the friendly informality, make me perfectly dreadful. I observe myself, I observe myself, and I am astonished at myself, and I arrive at the conviction that woman is simply, quite plainly, a terrifying creature. I do not say this out of boastfulness — it is a simple reflection that one should not make ridiculous.
If Maman knew that at the Poltava supper I had the last drop from a bottle of champagne, by chance, and that in drinking my health the arms of Nadine, Alexandre, myself, and Gritz crossed as if at a wedding. Poor Maman, how happy she would be!
Certainly, Gritz is melting, but he is a very difficult man to catch. Limited, vain, and with a mother from hell.
We recalled our childhood, the public garden in Odessa.
— So I was courting you, was I!
I respond with my best smiles while the fop makes imploring grimaces and begs me to let him carry my train. He did so yesterday and received the nickname of train-bearer.
We played a game of croquet. Gritz with me, and I — a devil of a flirt beneath an appearance of perfect simplicity.